


wanted, needed

by aliaaaaaa



Series: webgottrash tumblr prompts [53]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7021195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>as much as he was angry at Web, as much as he resented the fact that Web wasn’t at Bastogne with him, he still care and he didn’t want anything to happen to Web because god, the memories, god, the love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wanted, needed

**Author's Note:**

> an anon requested for webgott sexytime with Lieb thinking Web could've died, so he gets extra toppy and handsy.
> 
> my take on it.

The moment that he heard grenade going off somewhere over the river, Joe already regretted being angry at Web. Funny that. Because at that moment, his heart started to race and his mind instantly conjured up an image of a wounded Webster; worst, a dead Webster; the lights in his usually bright blue eyes gone.

(Blow the whistle.)

He told himself to get a grip, told himself that Web was fine.

(Blow the whistle.)

The krauts were shooting now and his ears rung with the sound of mortars and bullets flying across the dirty snowy field.

( _Jesus Christ! C’mon! Blow the goddamn whistle!_ )

The whistle was blown, his fingers went on auto mode and pulled the trigger of the machine gun, rat-tat-tat at the krauts; but even then, his mind won’t settle; he couldn’t shake the image of a dead Webster, and it got worse when he saw someone being carried off into the small boat, screaming in agony and his mind kept chanting, “ _fuck, fuck, fuck_ ” because as much as he was angry at Web, as much as he resented the fact that Web wasn’t at Bastogne with him, he still care and he didn’t want anything to happen to Web because god, the memories, god, the love.

When the men returned to their side of the bank and someone yelled, “Take cover! Get the medic!”, his mind screaming louder than the sound of mortars, louder than the sound of machine guns, for Web to fucking be alive.

 _I swear to God, Web. If you die on me, I fucking swear–_.

And he couldn’t leave his post to go run after Webster to see –

To see if Webster was still breathing and alive and whole or –

Dead as his soul.

And maybe, _maybe_ he was propelled by his worry, by his memories, by –

Because as soon as Web stepped into the billeted house, he pulled Web by his wrist; gripping it hard until Web yelped and inside the small, dingy room with half of the roof blown off, he pushed Web against the closed door to look at him properly.

To run his dirty, calloused fingers on Web’s already tired face, to press his nose against Web’s smooth neck and felt the pulse jumped and Web already smelled like gunpowder, like blood, like war.

And he could feel his heart calming down, his nerves settled because here was Web; warm and solid and he wrapped his arms around Web’s broad shoulders and he didn’t realize that he was whispering Web’s name until Web pulled him closer, hugging back and murmuring, “I’m alright, Lieb. I’m fine.”

But he wanted more.

He _needed_ more.

More of Web’s voice in his ears, more of Web’s fingers on his skin, more of Web –

The kisses were meant to be soft and sweet and comforting, but it ended being biting, teeth sunk in on soft, plump lips; drawing out pleasured groans and fingers made their ways in thick hair and tugged as if they were fighting instead of kissing and the memories flooding back like river spilled into the ocean; body pressing on body behind the equipment shed with the moon hung low against the dark sky, the cramped hospital lavatory that echoed their muffled moans, the soft kisses and soft promises being spoken into their heated skins–

“Fuck, Web. I need to feel you.”

And Web gave himself over to Joe’s punishing touch.

_For leaving me alone in Bastogne, for not busting your ass to get out of the hospital, for asking stupid questions, for making me worry, for making me care._

Clothes strewn all over the floor, hot, feverish skin sliding against skin making them moaned in satisfaction because it had been too fucking long and they both had been too cold without each other’s touch.

And when they kissed again, Joe pulled Web’s dog tags with his fingers.

_Closer, closer. I need you closer._

And Web went willingly, sighing softly when Joe touched him everywhere; his hair, his face, his chest, his belly, his ass, his cock.

“Like that?” Joe’s question was lost into Web’s mouth; his fingers wrapped around Web’s hard, perfect cock and stroke the length slowly; watching Web’s blue eyes turned dark and his mouth fell open and his hips moving, moving, moving.

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuck my fist, Web.”

Because he needed to see Web’s flushed face, needed to hear Web took shaky breaths, needed to feel Web’s taut belly contracted in pleasure when he tighten his fist.

“Fuck, Joe. Fuck–”

“Want that? Want to fuck me?” He licked Web’s lips, tasted sweetness on his tongue.

“Or maybe I could fuck you instead, pin you against this wall and spread your ass–”

They went down on the floor in a mess of naked limbs, moaning when their cocks slid against each other.

“Just, fuck me, Lieb,” Web breathed on his neck, licking his scar and nibbling it hard and he flipped Web easily, pinned Web’s hands over his head as he straddled Web.

And he did.

His spit-coated fingers pushing in and out of Web’s tight hole, his chest flaring with possession when Web splayed open his legs obscenely, his cock red, and leaking and he was grunting and his belly contracted–

And this was better than arguing, this was better than being snarky, this was better than fighting.

Web writhing in pleasure underneath him was better, Web wrapping his legs around his waist was better, Web pulling him down by neck was better, Web moaning Lieb in his deep, husky voice as he pushed his cock in was better.

Because like this he knew that Web was real, that Web was breathing, that Web was warm, that Web was alive.

“Lieb, fuck me,” Web moaned and he grinned wolfishly and thrust hard and god, the love filling his chest, making words tumbling out from his throat.

“Don’t ever leave me again, fuck, Web. Don’t ever, don’t ever,” he whispered harshly, punctuated every word with a deep thrust that made Web moaned and tugged him down to kiss him sloppily.

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.” Web answered back in the same manner, pushing his hips up to meet the thrusting halfway; sobbing his name towards the morning sky.

They didn’t care if anyone heard them, they didn’t care if anyone stumbled upon them; because right now all that mattered was they were together; holding one another, chasing the same thing; _loving, loving, loving._

**Author's Note:**

> first posted on [webgottrash](http://webgottrash.tumblr.com/post/145132194077/i-just-re-watched-the-patrol-ep-and-would-love)


End file.
